Craig Daily Press

Christina M. Currie

Christina M. Currie's Touch of Spice column appears Fridays in the Craig Daily Press. E-mail her at director@craig-chamber.com

Craig — It is oh-so tempting to establish yourself as all-seeing and all-knowing when it comes to the way you want your children to perceive you. I’m telling you now, it will come back to haunt you.

Children are just too literal.

Six-year-old Nikki asked me, “Who is that man?”

I told her that I didn’t know, to which she responded with an accusing glare, “You said you know everything.”

So I told her his name was Joe.

What else was I supposed to do? When I say I know everything, I mean important things. Frankly, they should know that they’re only supposed to ask about the things I really do know.

But what I’m mostly learning now is that when you know everything and control everything, you are also to blame for … well, everything.

Seven-year-old Katie slipped coming off our front porch and slid down the three steps leading to the doorway. It was one of those slow-motion accidents that lead more to embarrassment than pain. Katie felt neither.

“Mom!”

It was that accusing tone again.

It wasn’t like I’d pushed her. And, I did mention that the black high-heeled boots she’d chosen, while adorable and stylish, probably wouldn’t handle well on icy roads. (Not that I blame her for taking that risk, no amount of logic should separate a girl from great shoes, but still, the warning was issued.)

I’m continually surprised by the breadth and scope of things they believe I am in control of.

Evidently, I should be able to fix all manner of things. Broken toys, scrapped shins, the fact that Mondays exist, weather that is too hot, weather that is too cold, a lack of consistency in the hours the swimming pool is open, the fact that birthdays and Christmas don’t come more often, the fact that nature boasts all manner of creepy, crawly things … The list is endless.

I can fix many things from toys to skin to hurt feelings, but beyond that … about the only thing I can do say that Joe did it.

In this game of laying blame, I can’t say I’m surprised that it’s coming back to me. I mean, first there’s the fact that I constantly tell my children that I do, in fact, know everything. Second, there’s that fact that kids take the blame for a lot of things that really aren’t their fault.

We, for example, are always late. It’s never because of my addiction to the snooze button or because I had to change clothes three times (OK, eight) before we left. It’s generally because “I couldn’t get the girls moving fast enough.”

My house is never a disaster because I chose to lose myself in a book instead of emptying the dishwasher, it’s generally “kids, you just can’t stay ahead of them.”

I never miss a meeting because I was just too tired. It’s because “the girls just weren’t up to it.”

I know, I know. It’s horrible.

BUT, I have to say, I’m not alone.

I belong to a service club that, for fun, levies a 25-cent penalty for eating your dessert before the president rings the bell indicating that we’re allowed to dig in. At one meeting that included not just members, but their families, one person, facing a stiff fine for all but licking his plate clean of chocolate cake well in advance of the bell, told everyone that the boy sitting next to him had done it. The boy, promoting the continuation of child-blame everywhere, took the rap without even blinking.

There’s really no way to win this blame game, whether as a child or a parent.

Surely that’s someone else’s fault.